


Clements, Minnesota

by dragonspell



Series: Dreaming In Florescents [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7902286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Clements, Minnesota, Dad holes them up in a cheap motel room just outside of town.  Direct Sequel to <a href="http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/120979.html">Dreaming in Florescents</a>.  Dean tries to give Sam that blowjob he's been wanting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clements, Minnesota

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal 8-28-16.

**Title:** Clements, Minnesota  
**Author:** [](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/)**dragonspell**  
**Series:** Supernatural  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Rating:** R  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Underage content (Sam's 15, Dean's 19). Pre-series.  
**Summary:** In Clements, Minnesota, Dad holes them up in a cheap motel room just outside of town. Direct Sequel to [Dreaming in Florescents](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/120979.html). Dean tries to give Sam that blowjob he's been wanting.  
**Word Count:** 1890  
**A/N:** Sequel to [Dreaming in Florescents](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/120979.html), and it's prequel [Blue Raspberry](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/121127.html), however, you don't need to read those to understand. Next fic in series: [Keep The Dirt Off Your Knees](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/122099.html).

  
In Clements, Minnesota, Dad holes them up in a cheap motel room just outside of town. It’s another one of those classically hideous places that Dean adores and Sam despises. The entire room is decorated like it was dredged from the bottom of the ocean, all rippling blues, and driftwood and anchors complete with fake barnacles. Dean can’t even pretend to lie—he loves it. Sam, meanwhile, has spent the past hour curled up under the covers of the bed he and Dean are going to have to share tonight because there’s no couch and Dad doesn’t have the extra cash for the cot this time around.

Not that they mind.

Sam’s been doing his damnedest to pretend that his wretched existence isn’t happening and he’s nose deep in one of the books that was assigned to him at his last school. As if it still matters. Dean, though, he’s been one busy boy. He’s already helped Dad set up the paperwork and cleaned all the guns and he thinks all his hardwork is finally paying off: Dad’s making noises about heading down to the bar for a few hours. He wants to scout out the local gossip and Dean’s more than willing to send him on his way. “Yeah, Dad, I think that’s a good idea. Sammy and me’ll be fine. We got some tomato soup and I can make that for dinner.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Dad rumbles and Dean knows enough to translate as ‘closing time.’ Which, considering it’s only 8:25 is a long freaking time away and yet still not enough for what Dean wants. Time’s a wasting, so Dean is just barely refraining from full-on shoving his father out the door. It’s an odd position to be in because he knows only a few short months ago, he would have been doing anything in his power to stop his father from going and now he’s here doing just the opposite.

Or, just a few short months ago—a whole other lifetime ago, Dean would have been whipping out his fake ID and following his father straight into the bar to try and shark a few games of pool. That was before, though. Before he knew what Sammy wanted from him.

Ever since this thing between him and Sam had started, they haven’t had much time to themselves. It’s mostly been stolen moments for corner handjobs and a whole lot of blue balls. So Dean is absolutely dying to spend a little quality time with his brother. Plenty of time to shark pool and lecture his father about his drinking habits later. Much later.

Sammy, though. Sammy’s being less than cooperative. Dean waits a good five minutes after the Impala leaves before daring to throw a seductively cocky grin over his shoulder. His jaw drops open in dismay, though, when he realizes that Sam hasn’t even bothered to move from his ball of teenage angst on the bed. Dean’s willing to bet the pissy little fucker hasn’t even noticed that Dad’s left.

Feeling just a little offended, Dean stalks over to the bed, stripping off his shirt in the meantime. Hopefully clothing’s going to be completely optional in a few minutes so he might as well. He reaches the side of the bed and unzips his jeans, shoving them down his thighs and that’s when Sam finally deigns to roll over. “Dean?”

“Time to get naked, Sammy,” Dean says and crawls onto the bed. He straddles Sam and looks down at his brother’s blushing face. “On second thought,” he murmurs and jumps off, hauling Sam with him.

Sam swallows and looks around wildly. “Dad?” he whispers like Dean’s suddenly gone crazy and Dad is, indeed, just lurking under the bed or something.

“Off getting drunk,” Dean says and pulls Sam into the middle of the room. “Just you and me tonight.” Sam stands obediently where Dean puts him, all gangly limbs and too baggy clothes as he blinks the boredom and sleepiness from his eyes, staring down at Dean through his shaggy hair. “Thought you might want to get reacquainted with my mouth.” Dean winks and sinks to his knees as Sam blushes redder and whines pitifully.

They’re standing in the middle of the motel room with Sam fully dressed in his plaid overshirt, gray T, and rough jeans while Dean kneels naked at his feet. Dean knows exactly what kind of picture he’s going for with this move and he can only hope it’s working as well as he wants it to. Judging by the way Sam’s staring at him and whimpering, though, Dean figures he’s pretty damn close. The carpet’s hell on his knees but it’s worth it.

“God, Dean…” Sam whispers, his hands lightly touching Dean’s head. Dean surges forward opening his mouth over Sam’s jean-clad dick, just putting pressure on it while he steadily soaks the fabric. Sam’s knees buckle but he manages to catch himself and curls over Dean, panting harshly. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, Dean, God…”

Dean twists his head, fitting his mouth better over the hardness in Sammy’s jeans and licks out his tongue to tease at touching Sam. Sam can’t possibly feel the curl of Dean’s tongue but he can feel the added bit of pressure and it’s making him whine.

Dean clenches a fist around the base of his own dick, feeling it throb in his hand and trying hard not to come. Fuck but he loves this shit. He loves getting Sammy hot and desperate and horny. With his other hand, he reaches up and thumbs at Sam’s zipper and then flicks his eyes up to meet Sam’s. “Did ya want something, Sammy?” he asks.

Sam stares for a few beats before he growls “Such a fucking tease!” His fingers knot in Dean’s hair and yank him forward into Sam’s groin. “Suck me already.”

Dean shivers even as he tries not to think about how hot Sam’s demands get him. With a flick of his wrist, he opens Sam’s fly and reaches inside to pull out his dick and Dean’s mouth is already watering with the thought of holding the hot weight of it. Sam’s still cursing at him but Dean can only hear the low, rasping tone of voice instead of any individual words. Sheer arousal is rushing through his body and he’s going to make this good for Sammy, so damn good.

How Sammy got such a big dick, Dean has no idea but either Sam’s going to be a freaking giant one day in proportion or he’s a genetic freak. Dean doesn’t know because his own, though it’s certainly no slouch, doesn’t even hold a candle to Sam’s. Sam starts whining the minute Dean touched his bare dick but now Dean licks his lips to tease him some more and Sam’s cock starts to drool. Smiling, Dean licks out his tongue to swipe over the head and clean up the salty pre-come and Sam’s whine goes into a higher pitch, his fingers tightening in Dean’s hair. Dean flicks his tongue again at the slit, loving the taste of Sam, before he starts to slide the whole damn thing into his mouth. Well, as much as he can manage anyway. He’s not kidding when he says that Sam’s big.

“Oh Christ, fuck, Dean,” Sam pants, his hips giving little jerks like he’s just barely stopping himself from thrusting into Dean’s mouth. The thought of Sam fucking Dean’s mouth, just shoving in and not letting Dean have any say is hot enough to make Dean moan and it’s a good thing his tongue is otherwise occupied because he might just be telling Sam to go for it right now.

Before he can give in, though, there’s a rumble outside the door, familiar and unmistakable, and Dean freezes. He yanks his mouth away and gapes in shock at Sam’s crotch for a few costly seconds while his brain stalls out. Impossible. He knows better, though, than to question his instincts, especially when he looks up to see Sam’s panicked, frustrated face, staring at the still thankfully closed door while his jerks at his zipper. In a flash, Dean’s on his feet, scrambling to pick up his jeans as he rushes for the bathroom door. He makes it inside, slamming the door behind him and panting hard as he leans back against it. What the fucking HELL? The one day their father opted NOT to get a drink? He scrubs a hand across his face and into his hair as he thinks long and deep about just how badly the little scene out in the main room could have gone. He drops his jeans into the sink to keep them off the floor and steps into the dry shower, breathing deeply as he tries to even himself out. He can still taste Sam.

From the main room, he can hear the opening of the front door and his father’s quite rumble. Sam’s voice, though is loud and clear and definitely pissed as he snaps “He’s taking a shower.”

“Don’t you raise your voice to me, boy!” Oh for fuck’s sake. Dean steps out of the shower and grabs his jeans, yanking them on. If he’s right, he’s got about thirty seconds to get out and in between Dad and Sam before they start tearing at each other like a couple of rabid dogs. He doesn’t even bother to fasten the snap, just makes sure that the zipper’s up as he opens the door.

“Fuck you,” Sam’s snapping back but it’s with more resentment than anger and he’s turning away to stare at the wall. Dean breathes a sigh of relief that Sam’s avoiding challenging his father for once.

Dad glares at Sam’s back but only for a second before he lets the display of defiance go and snaps his eyes over to Dean, his gaze gentling. “Think we can get this finished tonight,” he says.

Dean boggles. “Really?”

Dad nods. “Heard one of the gas station attendants talking when I stopped to fill up the Impala.” He strides to the far wall, rifling through the duffels. “Get geared up; we’ll take out this thing tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies automatically, already moving. Sam glares from his position by the bed but, after a pleading look from Dean, he just sighs and shuffles to pull on a different shirt.

Dad nods. “Take care of this sucker and we can go check out that haunting in Wisconsin.”

“Great,” Dean says, feeling anything but. He knows just how selfish he’s being thinking it because solving the case early means less potential deaths but Christ, was asking for a half hour too much? A half hour would have made the difference tonight between a limp, satisfied dick and the barely contained tension knotting his spine.

Maybe he’s going to have to grab a quickie with Sammy in a gas station bathroom on the way to Wisconsin. Gas station bathrooms aren’t exactly sanitary or the best places to have sex but all they’ll need is their flies open and ten minutes without their father banging down the door. Just enough to take the edge off. Dean grimaces and shoves an extra box of ammo into his bag. Later then. First he has to make it through this hunt.

On to [Keep The Dirt Off Your Knees](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/122099.html).  



End file.
